


Let the field lie fallow

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-15 00:01:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Life” in this “society” being, at best, an utter bore and no aspect of “society” being at all relevant to women, there remains to civic-minded, responsible, thrill-seeking females only to overthrow the government, eliminate the money system, institute complete automation and eliminate the male sex. — Valerie Solanas</p><p>When Meenah comes to find you again, you know what she’s going to ask.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let the field lie fallow

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another fic for the HSWC Bonus Round 1. Original prompt and fic in the thread are [here.](http://hs-worldcup.dreamwidth.org/3493.html?thread=1237669#cmt1237669)

The second time you see Meenah in the afterlife-- no, maybe the third or fourth time? You don't know why you even try to keep track-- it's when her first mission to round up your friends has failed, but before she's officially thrown in her (now quite substantial) lot with Vriska.

You _know_ Vriska's bad news, in the same way that Meenah's bad news. Vriska is Aranea with the ability to cut to the chase. An Aranea who can play an audience. In other words, an actual dangerous version of Aranea, you think. You know, because of some weird second sight shit that you can claim is due to being dead, that they're going to wreak havoc on the weird, off-kilter existence here in the dream bubbles. You know that they'll resort to suspect methods to do it, and you know it'll be wrong, and that it will rankle some long-held views you have on free will and respecting an individual's autonomy. And yet you know equally well that there's nothing you can do to stop it.

Your indifference to the subject incenses you, but the anger you feel is more like the vestigial biological urges you still get after all this time-- eating, peeing, sleeping. Thinking about it too much could probably kill you, or at least that's how you half-jokingly justify it to yourself. It could result in your untimely double-death, and you don't want that, even after all this time.

So when Meenah comes to find you again, you know what she's going to ask.

"What do you think, Maryam?"

"About what? Aranea's ancestor?" You shrug.

Meenah laughs. "Fuck no. I got her number. Don't you worry. She ain't gonna get by me." She gets closer to you; you're sitting while she looms over you, and she's still holding her culling fork. She grins wider, and you roll the eyes you don't have. "That sure ain't what I was askin' your opinion about."

"What were you asking, then?" you say, and instantly regret it. Your words came out cold and brittle. Almost priggish. You're not six sweeps old anymore, and you no longer really care how cool Meenah thinks you are, but old habits die hard. If there's one thing being dead has taught you, it's that.

"I'm asking if you want to join up with me. Again." She pauses, raises one brow at you. "Well?"

This is another old habit, for this is definitely not the first time Meenah has visited you here in your bedroom on Prospit. Meenah spent a lot of your session dead, or on the run from authorities on Derse. She mostly came to Prospit to hide out, and when she wasn't with Aranea, she was with you. She would climb up and through the window; after she went god tier, she flew. 

Maybe it's another vestigial urge that makes you reach out and grab her free hand, the hand that's not holding herself up on the culling fork. For a second-- just a second-- Meenah's taken off-guard. It's only in this second that she'll fumble, show a little bit of her hand. You do know that from experience. "Just what," you say, holding her hand in both of yours, "are you planning on doing. Exactly."

She pauses, stares at your joined hands, and the pause, the look on her face, tells you more than whatever pile of words she's about to throw at you. "What do you think?" She sets her culling fork aside and is easing herself down into your lap now, one leg on either side of you. "Gonna fuck some shit up. Gonna make an _army_. I'm asking for your coddamn opinion on that, Maryam."

She's kissing you before you can answer her question. Her lip presses against your teeth and she buries her hands in your hair, pressing against the sides of your head too forcefully. You press your hands to her hips and dig into her backside with your nails to get her to let go. "I think it sounds crazy."

"Duh." Her mouth is on your cheek, besides your eye, against your ear now. "You said that before." Your head is pounding; you can feel your blood pusher in your throat, can feel a heat building inside you that's just as much a biological function as all the rest. "What do you say. Don't you wanna come with?" She rolls her hips against you and the heat rises to almost an unbearable level. You open your mouth, press your face against the crook of her neck.

Moments like this aren't what make you feel alive again; you remember what it's like to be alive every day. That's all this place _is_ , really, just memories of the real, breathing flesh-sack that your soul, your mind, the rhythm of your blood pusher used to inhabit. When you close your eyes, sometimes you're reminded that your existence is a fluke, a coincidence, a minor cog in some great machine that you can't even begin to understand. And it's that understanding, that feeling of utter insignificance, that makes you understand why Meenah wants to break everything, why Meenah wants to hold dominion over all of it, even though you know it's not right, can't be right.

So you know what your answer will be, even as you kiss her back, even before she pulls away. She knows as well, but her expression is the same. "Well? Come on. You gotta come with us. Me and Aranea can't be the only adults on this schoolhive rumpus fuckfest. We need some backup. I need someone that won't bore me to tears."

"No thanks," you say. "Think I'll pass."

She stands up. "I figured." She doesn't sound disappointed. She sounds satisfied, like something she's suspected has been proven right. "I figured it wasn't your jam. It's too bad, but." She shrugs.

You finally look at her face. She has her culling fork again, and that same smile, too. "It is," you say. "But I'm sure I'll see you around."

She nods. That you'll see her around is a near certainty. There are only so many people to see. "Ain't you gonna wish me good luck before I go?"

"With shipmates like yours, I doubt you'll need it," you say, and she laughs. She leaves and you lean against the window sill to watch the skyline and wait; it's almost time for Prospit's moon to eclipse Skaia. During the eclipse rays of light that died a long time ago will fill the room, and just for a moment everything will disappear in a brilliant haze of white.


End file.
